Driving
by mispel
Summary: Booth takes Zack for a drive, Zack drives Booth crazy. BoothZack slash.
1. Chapter 1

Driving: Part 1

-

Booth tried to look like he was listening. He did this by attentively watching his boss's mouth move as he chewed him out, mostly about Bones. When Booth went to see Bones and share the grief, he got roped into chauffeuring Zack to a crime scene. No one knows how these things happen. You are walking along, and a brick falls off a building and hits you in the head. There is no explaining it. That's what Booth was thinking as the littlest squint was staring at him from the passenger seat of his car. They were headed to an out of the way spot so Zack could take some pictures and samples. The drive was both scenic and boring. Fewer and fewer buildings lined the road. Eventually they were surrounded by nature and nothing else. Maybe it was the bucolic view that had Zack's eyes still glued to Booth.

"You have a strong jaw," Zack said as a capper to all the staring.

"Kid, wait till I'm dead to start analyzing my bones."

"It would be an honor," Zack said. He sounded like he couldn't wait. The sick, little...

"I can't believe you can't drive," Booth said. But he could believe it. He just couldn't believe he was stuck driving him. "You are like something Hodgins raised in a terrarium."

"You are very manly," Zack said in return.

"Is you giant, mutant brain short-circuiting?" Booth asked.

"I thought we were just blurting out random things."

"No. We aren't. I definitely don't want to know about your random things," Booth told him. God knows what would come out of his mouth next.

"Because they might be sexual?" That's what came out of Zack's mouth next.

"That's exactly the kind of thing I don't want to know."

Zack turned to face forward giving Booth hope that he had put an end to the nonsense.

"They aren't. All sexual. But I have questions about that area," Zack said while sitting in that self contained, seemingly harmless way.

"Talk to your mom, or just wish real hard and maybe you'll get turned into a real boy," Booth said, gruffly.

"Like you."

"I'm a man."

"I am very aware of that." Zack looked at Booth's crotch then at his own. Booth stared at him for a second. Zack must have mistaken his disbelieving glower for an invitation to share.

"I mean, if you have a reaction to one person. An immediate, undeniable reaction..."

"Look, I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it," Booth told him. How had he lost control of the situation exactly? Was it when they left the asphalt for this bumpy, dirt road?

"A gun can be a stand-in for..."

And that was enough of that. Booth pulled over to the side of the road. Dust went flying behind the wheels. It was trunk time for the Squint.

"Ok, little buddy..." Booth started to say as he turned off the car.

"Could you pick another nickname?" Zack asked. He didn't seem to be grasping the gravity of the situation.

"It's not a nickname."

"We are parked. Does this mean what I think it means?" Zack asked looking around. It was a wooded area, and Booth had pulled into a space between some trees.

"If you think this means that I found a good place to dump your dead body, then yes," Booth answered him.

"This isn't a good place. You left distinct tire marks. The soil composition in this area..."

"Do you want to walk the rest of the way?"

"On the other hand the ground cover will hide us from sight if anyone passes by," Zack said as he looked back toward the road.

"No one is passing by."

Booth looked back too. Only a small piece of the road was visible from their spot. Two men, a deserted, lightly traveled road - the situation was wrought with possibilities. Possibilities that involved Zack's crotch from the looks of it. He kept glancing down at it and shifting his ass around on the seat.

"Is this is a good place and time for us to explore my urges?" he asked Booth as if he were talking about the time of day or, in his case, some maggot-infested corpse.

"What? You... Get out," Booth ordered. Zack didn't move.

Booth opened his car door and got out. He slammed the door shut making Zack wince. Zack turned in his seat to watch him as he circled around the front of the car to the passenger side. Booth opened the car door and grabbed Zack by the collar.

"You are walking," Booth said and dragged him out of his seat.

"But the equipment," Zack protested, pointing to the back of the car.

"The equipment knows how to keep its mouth shut. The equipment can ride in the car."

"This is manhandling. Isn't it?" Zack asked as if only now noticing Booth's hands on him.

"Yes. It's manhandling," Booth confirmed and handled him roughly some more to underscore the point. It was kind of fun.

"It's not diminishing my urges," Zack said like he was announcing the result of some experiment.

"Shut up about your urges!"

"They are very insistent urges." Zack looked up at Booth. His eyes were both innocent and undeniably needy. Booth was still holding him by the arm. He became very aware of the point of contact between them. It was like they were two crossed wires, and something was about to ignite. Booth tugged at his collar. It was getting a little hot.

"Oh, God," Booth said starting to feel some urges of his own.

"Does that mean we can explore my urges now?"

"Look..."

"I think we should start by kissing," Zack said and he moved in for a kiss. Boot took his other arm to hold him off.

"No," Booth said. But once the subject was raised, he couldn't stop looking at Zack's mouth. It seemed very red and really close. He just had to pull him in.

"Groping?" Zack proposed. He flexed his fingers as if getting them ready for some major groping action.

"Grope... No." But Booth was already softening his grip on Zack's arms, starting to move his thumbs around, to feel.

"Fondling?" Zack asked not getting discouraged by Booth's words.

"No!"

Zack didn't even pause. It was like someone wound him up. There was no stopping him.

"Should I remove my clothes. Would you like to remove my clothes? Or should I remove your clothes. We could remove each other's clothes, simultaneously or separately. There are so many options." Zack looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I think we should reschedule this," Zack said. He extracted himself from Booth's hands with no trouble.

"What?"

"We don't have time to try all the different combinations now. We should get to the crime scene." Zack was all business all of a sudden. He climbed back into the car.

Booth shook his head and got into the driver's seat. Did the car get smaller? It took Booth a minute to remember how to turn the ignition.

"Can you teach me to drive?" Zack asked as Booth started the car.

"I can teach you lots of stuff, kid."

Zack nodded. Booth glanced at him quickly and saw Zack sitting in his seat looking pleased.

-

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Driving: Part 2

  
  


Zack seemed to have no trouble concentrating on his work once they got to the crime scene. All Booth could think about was Zack's cute, little, naked squint ass getting screwed into the dirt. No clean sheets, no niceties, no civilization, just a naked, pale-assed, little Squint writhing under him. What else was he supposed to think about while Zack was bending over to tweeze a sample of something from a blade of grass?

Zack must have finished because he was now bending down to pack the equipment. Booth craned his neck, watching. When Zack walked up to Booth where he waited by the car, Booth stepped back involuntarily. Zack announced he was done. Booth wasn't done though.

The sun was ruddy and low on the horizon, peeking through the trees. Booth drove fast. When they got to the spot where Booth had pulled over before, he swerved. The sudden maneuver made Zack lurch and grab hold of the dashboard. Zack swayed in his seat as they went over rough ground. A cloud of dust rose up behind them. The car stopped.

"You know that thing you wanted to reschedule?" Booth asked as he turned off the engine.

"Yes," Zack answered matter of factly. Booth leaned toward him. Their faces were close. Zack's eyes were wide.

"I'm rescheduling it," Booth told him in his I'm brooking no argument voice.

Once again, Booth was out of the car and on Zack's side, pulling him out and down to the ground. Zack looked almost comfortable down there.

"You are getting me dirty," Zack said. He wasn't protesting so much as making an observation.

"That's the idea." Booth was leaning over Zack, taking off his jacket. He threw the jacket on the hood of the car. He kneeled down between Zack's legs.

"This is exactly how I pictured it," Zack claimed as he gave Booth a frank and eager look.

"Is it?" Booth asked surprised. He paused in his mauling of Zack. Zack nodded. His pupils were huge, and his pants were bulging. Booth pulled them down then used them to pull his legs up.

"I brought lubricant," Zack said holding aloft a tube of it.

"You are kidding. Give me that." Booth grabbed the tube out of his hand. "You carry this around?"

"I like to be prepared. I've researched the practices and procedures..." Zack started to explain.

"Ok, you are taking all the sex out of the sex. Shut up."

"I don't think I can. I expect I'll have to make some noise," Zack told him.

"Noise is fine. Noise is good. Make all the noise you want. Just don't talk."

  


And Zack did make noise. Noise that Booth kept hearing even as he stood in the lab listening to Zack tell Bones all about bugs and weeds and pollen and particles. They were back at the Jeffersonian. Booth was a little disheveled. He had telltale dirt stains on his knees. Easily explained - he kneeled at the crime scene. But Zack was filthy.

A simple "I fell" took care of the questioning looks from everyone except Hodgins.

"What did you do to Zack?" Jack asked. The others were thankfully not within hearing.

"Nothing," Booth said as he fiddled with a bone in an evidence bag. Realizing what he was doing, he put it down. He couldn't help wiping his hand against his pant leg.

Jack narrowed his eyes. He looked almost proprietary about the issue of Zack. Booth tried to stay casual, and not defensive, or God forbid, jealous. Jack seemed to be using his Squint powers to figure out what a manly FBI agent might have done with Zack in an out of the way spot, under some trees. What if Zack had a tube of lubricant in his pocket, and Booth had a condom or two. The tires had dug deep furrows into the dirt from the car's sudden stop. The tracks were grooved distinctly next to Zack's head. The car made some ticking noises as it cooled. Other than that, all Booth could hear was Zack's breathing overlapping with his. Booth balanced himself on one arm as he used Zack's pants to keep his legs out of the way. He was poised there watching Zack shift closer to him. Booth could feel the muscles of his arm straining, his whole body straining toward Zack.

"How long do I have to wait?" Zack asked.

Booth yanked his mind back to the present. Fortunately, Hodgins was watching Zack not him. Unfortunately, Zack looked uncharacteristically pleased.

"He's smiling," Jack said in a viciously accusing way. Zack wasn't really smiling. Only a slight smirk would show up now and then when his eyes strayed toward Booth.

"I know only one reason for a guy to smile," Jack continued to air his suspicions.

"Wait a minute," Booth protested.

"You got him a hooker," Jack guessed.

Booth made sure not to sigh with relief.

"I am a federal agent, I did not get him a hooker." No, he did him one better. Booth gave Zack the briefest of looks. Zack caught it like it was a paper airplane. Booth was almost sure that he saw Zack shiver.

"You did something to make him happy, I won't stand for it," Jack said and walked off. As he played with his bugs, he eyed Booth and Zack like they were maggots that had eaten a particularly delicious corpse.

  
  


To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Driving: Part 3

  


Note: This chapter has been edited for content. Unedited version is at livejournal, link in profile.

  


At the end of the day Booth drove himself home feeling a little buzzed. He kept hearing Zack's sex noises mingled with the noise of the engine and the sound of wheels against the road. He even turned off the radio as he did when the car sounded funny. This thing with Zack was... There was no thing with Zack. It was just a bump in the road. Something to drive away from with no looking back. Maybe one look back. OK, that's enough. Booth turned the radio back on, turned it up loud.

When Booth got home, there was a shadow by his front door. Zack was waiting for him, looking patient and squinty. With his hands clasped in front of him, he might have been waiting for the bus. Zack pushed himself away from the wall when he saw Booth. Booth stared at him for a minute. He dug his fingers into his eyelids. That didn't make Zack disappear.

"No," Booth mumbled under his breath. Then louder as he got closer, "No!" like he was speaking to a puppy getting ready to mess up the carpet. Of course all the puppy did was look up with the big, stubborn, uncomprehending puppy eyes.

"I have some follow up questions," Zack said and made it sound like he was stopping his sex ed professor after class. Booth walked by him and leaned his forehead against the door.

"No," Booth said again and raised a warning finger at Zack. Zack smiled. There must have been something in Booth's "no" that lacked resolve. Maybe it was the key that was already in the door.

As he unlocked the door, Booth looked around wondering how long Zack had been there and who had seen him. Zach watched the key turn in the lock with his mouth partly open. He cleared his throat. Maybe he wanted to say something but didn't. He just breathed. Booth put his hand on Zack's back, pushed him through the doorway.

"This is a squint free zone," Booth announced as Zack stopped just inside and blinked a few times as the light came on. He looked around. Booth stood behind him. His eyes fell on the back of Zack's neck. The light glowing off that little bit of skin reminded Booth that there was a lot more where that came from. Just as Booth reached for him, Zack walked off. Booth grunted.

"Don't make yourself at home. Don't drop by any time. Are you getting this?" Booth asked as Zack wandered until he found the bedroom. Booth followed him in there taking off his tie along the way. Zack was staring at the bed.

"But since you are here," Booth conceded. He rubbed his temples. What the hell. "A one time deal - we are clear on that right?" Zack nodded absently, in a completely non-binding way, his eyes never leaving the bed. Booth wandered what he was imagining.

"You are like a dog with a bone," Booth said as he hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt.

Zack turned around and cocked his head to the side.

"That works on a number of levels," Zack noted. He watched Booth's shirt opening up. When the shirt came off, Zack's eyes ran over the exposed skin.

"Yes it does," Booth agreed as he kicked off his shoes.

"Bones referring to actual..." Zack was talking to Booth's chest.

"Yes, yes." While Booth pulled off his socks, Zack was still prattling.

"And bone as sexual slang..."

"Yes. Shut up. Why are you so calm?" Booth asked. Zack was positively serene, almost spacey. Booth was keyed up. He couldn't wait to get it started, get it over with, forget about it, and hope Zack forgot about it too. As with all bad ideas, it was best not to over-think it - jump right in, then hope the guy with no filter between his giant brain and his mouth keeps his yap shut about the whole thing. Great plan.

"I'm not calm," Zack said. To prove it, he took two of Booth's fingers and placed them against his carotid artery.

"Fast," Booth said. He felt Zack's pulse beat against his fingers. He watched Zack's mouth. He listened to him breathe. He put his face against the side of Zack's neck and smelled him.

"What else do you have to show me?" Booth asked in a low, irresistible voice that hummed against Zack's skin.

Zack shivered and stepped back. He started the show and tell by taking off his watch and setting it on the bedside table, then unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. The innocent, amateur striptease was making Booth grin. It looked like Zack was about to put on a pair of stripey pajamas and tuck himself into bed.

Booth decided to take over stripping him down before Winnie the Pooh made an appearance. Booth grabbed hold of Zack's shirt and popped the buttons.

"I should wear a t-shirt next time," Zack said as he watched the buttons hit the floor and roll under the bed.

"There won't be a next time," Booth said looking down Zack's body. Zack opened his mouth. Booth grazed the skin of his chest with the tips of his fingers, teased him into biting his lower lip. Squirming, Zack snatched his hands. He looked up into Booth's eyes. Booth grabbed him roughly around the waist. His groin reacted to the contact. Zack's look was an open invitation to anything. The next time was something to worry about later. Booth went in for a kiss. At first, Zack didn't move. He seemed to be concentrating. After due deliberation, he started to move his mouth over Booth's, slowly, like he was tasting something new, slippery, soft, but not snails, something good. He reached up his hands to Booth's face. From there, he let his hands sort of drop down Booth's body. Then he pulled them back up.

"You're not feeling up my bones, are you?" Booth asked, breaking off the kiss. Zack didn't look happy about that.

"No. Right now, I'm interested in the flesh," he said impatiently.

"Good."

They were back to it. Booth worked his way from Zack's mouth to his ear and down to his neck. There was a groan of disappointment when Booth's mouth left Zack's, but Booth's mouth couldn't be everywhere at the same time. The voice inside Booth head saying, "Bad idea, bad idea," got fainter. Zack inquisitive hands worked their way to Booth's belt. Zack had to look down to get it off. He was hardly done when Booth pushed him down on the bed. Watching him lying there, Booth let his pants drop. Zack looked at the result and smiled up at Booth. Booth climbed on top of him.

"I've made a list," Zack said.

"What?" Booth asked looking at Zack's face and wondering with what weird squint thing Zack was going to distract him from the stupid, career endangering sex.

Zack produced the list from his pants' pocket. It was mostly sexual positions. One was crossed off. The list wasn't very extensive or imaginative.

Booth crumpled it and lobbed it over the side of the bed.

"I don't do instruction manuals," Booth told him. Booth's tone made Zack's eyes shine. He looked like he might say something. Booth gave him an aggressive kiss just in case. Zack's hands slid over Booth's back, down to the backs of his thighs, and up again. His fingers kneaded Booth's shoulders, wrapped around the back of his neck, tangled in Booth's hair, then down again not knowing where to stop. His legs kicked out, rubbed against Booth's.

"Hold still," Booth said. Zack stopped. Booth smiled. The obedience was nice. At the risk of getting Zack's limbs going again, Booth dived in for another kiss. He was kissing Zack while trying to undo his fly at the same time. Having trouble, Booth had to stop one of those things. He stopped kissing Zack since getting his pants off was not negotiable. They were both panting.

"What the hell am I doing?" Booth asked as Zack raised his hips to help him out. Zack wore a look of eager innocence and complete cooperation that made Booth feel guilty. The look changed to consternation as Booth dropped on his side next to Booth. Freed up, Zack kicked off his shoes so he could kick off his pants.

"You are undressing me, and you are doing it wrong. Shoes have to be removed before pants," Zack informed him in that irritated, lecturing tone.

"Shoes aren't a priority. And don't answer me." Booth was in no mood for any technical descriptions of his present ill-advised activities.

Since Booth was still paused, Zack looked peeved. Booth searched for that guilt feeling, but it was almost gone with Zack's pants. Totally gone with his underwear. Zack smiled as Booth got what he needed from his nightstand. Zack hoisted his legs up. Booth got ready and positioned himself over Zack like he was doing a pushup. Zack squirmed at the lack of contact. He looked like he was going to talk again.

"OK. You aren't allowed to talk till you learn how to talk dirty," Booth reminded him as he lined them up. Zack closed his eyes and nodded. They were in complete agreement. Zack had on that look of concentration again. Booth grunted. He watched Zack's face twist. His legs dropped. He was limp, shaking. Booth gave him a minute. Zack didn't need it. Zack moved, hooked his legs behind Booth. The unexpected shift in his position made Booth crazy. He looked at Zack to make sure he could take it. He watched Zack's mouth curl with pleasure, his teeth dig into the bright red flesh of his lower lip, sweat beads form on his skin. Zack also watched Booth's face with a serious, absorbed look. He hardly blinked. Booth returned the look. Then he couldn't look away. Something hard and unyielding connected them, wouldn't let them go.

"Damn!" Booth said. Then he called out, "Zack."

"Yes."

"Shh. I wasn't talking to you."

It was unbearable, like unending pain or searing pleasure – Booth's brain was confusing the two. Zack moaned his agreement. His eyes were desperate for something. He was struggling against Booth, groaning but not letting go. Then the hard, unyielding connection melted between them. Booth's head fell onto Zack's shoulder. In his left ear he heard Zack laugh in relief, felt the tremor of it run through him. Booth mouth formed a lazy kiss against the salty skin. His tongue sneaked between his lips to taste it.

Their hands moved in slow motion, explored hot, slick skin while they came down. Zack's slow hands memorizing his body. With Zack wrapped around him, Booth almost dozed. But Zack's mouth wouldn't let him rest - trying something new, moving lower and lower.

"This is both crazy and stupid," thoughts like that came to Booth and words like that came out of him from time to time as he exhausted himself in Zack. Then the thoughts were gone, lost in the heavy feeling of sleep that only lasted till he remembered he had Zack in his bed for the absolutely first and last time, ever. He couldn't stop. It was the back of Zack's head, the skin of his back glowing with sweat, the feel of his hip bones where Booth braced against him. Even with Zack's face buried in a pillow, Booth could see his eyes locked on his, not letting him go.

  
  


to be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Driving

Part 4

  
  


Booth opened his eyes to Zack's face. Zack was leaning over him. Booth blinked in confusion. After he grabbed a pen from Booth's nightstand, Zack sat back against a pillow. Booth quickly figured out that it was morning, he was home, and Zack was in bed with him.

"What are you doing?" Booth asked. He wanted to say "what are you doing here", but cut himself off. He rubbed his eyes in the hopes that Zack would go away.

"Updating my list," Zack told him. Booth saw that Zack had a crumpled piece of paper and was smoothing it out against his naked thigh. Booth rubbed his eyes some more because there was a naked squint in his bed. Had to be a dream. One of those wacky dreams where your mother turns into a pterodactyl.

When Booth looked again, Zack was still naked, still in his bed, and scribbling.

"You are doing this now?" Booth looked at the clock to figure out what time 'now' was. He scratched his head trying to wake up.

"I'm underlining 'talking dirty'," Zack said as he wrote, unperturbed by Booth's general demeanor, which was that of a pissed off bear woken early from hibernation.

Booth looked over Zack's disturbingly naked shoulder to peek at the list. He noticed something.

"Driving? Are you serious?" Booth asked.

"I am always serious."

"Yeah. Put sense of humor on the list."

"I have a sense of humor. It's very advanced. You promised to teach me to drive." Zack's robot voice did nothing to bolster his claim to having a sense of humor.

Booth vaguely remembered mentioning something about teaching Zack to drive. But it was post sex in the dirt so he tried to scrub it out of his memory.

"That was a joke. If you had a sense of humor, you would know that. Definitely put sense of humor on the list. And what happened to your 'if you knew what I know about bla nerd bla'..." Booth had checked out halfway through Zack's lame reason for not learning how to drive.

"How difficult would it be to have sex in a moving car?" Zack asked.

"Not difficult as long as you are prepared to die a horrible, fiery death."

"What about cruise control?"

Booth grunted, keeping his eyes averted from Zack and his nakedness. Looking at so much of Zack's pale, exposed skin made him want to get things going again. Zack did have a corner of the sheet over his hips. Instead of cooling him off, the sheet was just a tease. Booth wanted to slide his hand underneath it. He wanted to pull Zack down and make him... Zack was scribbling his list oblivious to the way Booth wasn't looking at him. Booth glanced at the list again. It only held more inspiration.

"Some of those..." Booth tapped the list with his finger. "I am not the amazing human pretzel."

"Those are mainly for experimental purposes."

"Experiment? Is that what this is?" Booth asked off hand. The question was more for himself than for Zack. Booth stared off into space. It would explain everything. Booth was just experimenting, making sure he didn't like sex with squints. That he was no squintosexual.

"What is this?" Zack asked as he slapped the space on the bed between them. The unblinking squint stare caught Booth off balance. Zack kept staring. Booth realized he actually wanted an answer. Booth switched gears.

"What is this? This is over," Booth said, all business. He kicked off the sheet, which had wrapped around his leg, and got up. Zack still sat against the pillows staring at him, pen in hand. He looked ready to take notes. Lesson one - how to kick someone out of bed.

Zack's eyes followed Booth as he went to the bathroom. He shut the door. As Booth relieved himself, he wondered if Zack would take the hint and leave. Booth doubted it. He would have to spell it out, tell him to get dressed, throw him his clothes. He thought he could feel Zack's stare on the back of his head, right through the bathroom door as he splashed water on his face. Then Booth heard his front door slam. Stepping out of the bathroom, he saw that Zack and all his clothes were gone.

"Good," Booth said to the empty room. The room didn't look convinced.

  


After a few tension-filled days of not finding Zack on his doorstep, in his car, or in his bed, Booth started to relax a little. Sometimes things like that just blew over, and life got back to normal. But he couldn't be sure. It was weeks before anything Bones worthy came across Booth's desk. Actually it came into his ear as a ticked off US Marshal told him all about a fugitive who was captured with a ziplock bag full of severed fingers. The human fingers contained human finger bones that belonged to God knows who and came from God knows where. The fugitive wasn't talking. The bag was thrown to Booth, and he decided to throw it to Bones once the lab guys got everything they could from the flesh.

For a second before it opened, the glass door of the Jeffersonian showed Booth his own reflection. Everything was good – he didn't look at all like a guy who could be doing Zack. Booth smiled as he entered the cold, transparent place.

He presented the ziplocked fingers like a bag of treats, and that's how it was received by everyone except Zack. Instead of the usual ghoulish, annoying, boyish, approval-seeking, social skill lacking Zack, there was a snotty, ice cold Zack. He didn't look at Booth once. Zack's tone was clipped and hostile. Everyone kept staring at him. Hodgins stared extra hard. Way to be covert, kid.

Zack looked grim while Booth related the particulars of the case and handed over some files. Zack barely waited for him to finish before he found something to do elsewhere. He walked by Booth, deliberately looking straight ahead.

"What got up his..." Hodgins started to ask.

"So I should expect some results when?" Booth interrupted, desperate to stay off of the subject of asses.

Bones gave him a timetable, and Hodgins didn't take his eyes off him. Booth decided to get out of there before Hodgins cornered him. He watched Zack approaching with his head in a file, pretending not to see him. He brushed against Booth and said nothing. Booth raised an eyebrow and watched Zack go to stand with Hodgins. They stood in squint solidarity, their giant noggins close, voices low. Their sharp looks drilled holes into Booth's back as he was leaving.

  


Once Booth was gone, Jack started asking questions.

"OK, what did he do?"

Zack kept staring at the glass doors. Jack kept talking.

"Whatever it was, don't take it personally."

"What do you mean don't take it personally?" Zack asked for a moment forgetting that Jack didn't know what he was talking about.

"If he said something... You know how he is. We intimidate him. Anything with a brain intimidates him. But he's an OK guy. Deep down. Deep, deep down. Deep, deep, deep down."

Zack's eyes fell closed. He stopped listening.

The first time, in the dirt, Booth looked out of control but he wasn't. He was driven but still in charge. Zack remembered the way Booth seemed angry and also like he might start laughing. Zack could feel the weight of Booth's body after he slumped on top of him – heavy, spent, crushing him. Zack's mind focused completely. He could see Booth in bed, lying back, looking at him. Dropping his eyes down Booth's body, he saw him swallow, his chest go up and down, his hand reach down to stroke...

Zack dropped what he was doing and rushed out of the lab. He half ran down the corridor until he caught up with Booth. He grabbed Booth's sleeve. He took a deep breath.

  


Booth turned. He was faced with a mad looking Zack.

"What?"

"In here," Zack ordered. Ordered? Booth rubbed his forehead.

Zack swung open a heavy side door. His stern finger pointed at a darkened utility area. Leading the way he stalked down the hallway without checking to see if Booth followed. Booth smirked behind his back. Booth considered standing his ground, but his curiosity wouldn't let him. Maybe it was even something other than curiosity. Booth followed.

Halfway down the passageway, Zack stopped and turned. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried again. Then he gave up and rushed at Booth. The surprise attack pressed Booth into a wall. Zack's negligible strength couldn't hold him there. Booth pushed back easily pressing Zack into a piece of machinery, something that might have been an air compressor.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?" Zack asked as if he didn't know himself.

"It looks like you've lost your mind," Booth knocked against Zack's skull like he was checking a melon for ripeness.

"I can get to you," Zack threatened. Booth did his best not to laugh. That wasn't easy while Zack tried to be intense.

"I say this ends, it ends," Booth told him while doing a way better job being intense. Zack's eyes were big.

"You have an erection."

"So I'm a little..."

"Hard as a rock. Getting harder. I want it." Zack actually pointed at Booth's crotch like there could be any doubt what he meant.

"You're a little slut," Booth accused lightly.

"That's dirty talk, isn't it?" Zack said, and his eyes brightened. "Should I call you a slut? A whore? A man-whore?"

"For the love of all that is sexy, don't talk." Booth was horrified at the onslaught of his inexperienced enthusiasm. Zack started rubbing him through his pants.

"You said I should talk dirty."

"I was wrong," Booth groaned.

The machine behind Zack kicked in making them jump. Zack jerked toward him, pushing against him. Booth didn't think he could get any harder. Booth fell against Zack, pressed his ass to the machine which was shaking. Zack said something, but the pounding noise drowned him out. The vibrations carried through Zack into Booth. Booth held still then started grinding into him. Zack clawed at Booth's shirt. He was losing it, and though Booth was losing it too, he enjoyed the sight.

The machine noise drowned out everything. Booth felt like he had gone deaf, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat going crazy. Zack started to pant, and Booth stepped back. As soon as he let him go, Zack unzipped his fly. Booth did the same. Booth turned him around, pushed up his lab coat and pulled down his pants. They were barely off his ass before Booth was in. He didn't have long.

The machine thumped a violent rhythm as Zack was slammed up against it. Booth matched it. Zack was so loud Booth could hear him over the noise. Zack was writhing. Finished, Booth fell back against the wall. He slid down. Zack dropped to his knees, crawled over, and threw himself on top of Booth. He said something in Booth's ear, but Booth still couldn't hear him. He didn't care. Zack was kissing him. He barely moved just let Zack's lips and tongue do what they wanted. He could tell him it was over later.

  
  


To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Driving Ch. 5

-

-

It was Zack phone number on Booth's phone. Booth didn't dare ignore the call in case it was business and not the more likely alternative.

"I was told that it's good manners to call before coming," Zack said over the phone.

"You are not coming," Booth said decisively. He felt his blood rush a little faster.

"I am. In fourteen seconds. You can time me," Zack announced and hung up.

One step forward ten steps back. Nice going, Booth. That's what he got for being a sexy, strong, irresistible, all-American male. After having a taste of that, how could a hopeless, little squint like Zack stay away? Booth caught himself timing him.

In fourteen seconds Zack was pressing the doorbell. Booth wondered how long he would keep it up. The incessant ringing turned into Morse code. Booth deciphered it. It was obscene Morse code. The words sounded unsexy and laughable, just as if they were coming out of Zack's mouth. Booth had enough and yanked the door open. Zack finished out the word he had started like some obsessive robot. Booth looked around quickly for nosy neighbors, hoping none of them knew Morse code. He kept Zack off his welcome mat with a hand on his chest.

"You have to be this tall to get on this ride," Booth indicated his own height with his other hand.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Zack asked without conviction.

"Now you're just insulting me."

"If you invited me to come over I wouldn't have to show up uninvited and pretend to need to use the bathroom."

"That's some logic. How many years of school to come up with that?" Booth asked as he took a hard, appraising look at Zack. It was the kind of look he might give a woman sitting across the bar before he decided if he should buy her a drink. Zack didn't rate a drink. There was nothing standing in Booth's doorway to make a guy throw away his job. He focused on that estimation as he blocked the door so Zack couldn't come in.

Rather than try to push past him, Zack took hold of Booth's zipper. Booth stepped back. Zack tried to sneak in.

"Oh, no you don't."

Zack didn't make it very far. Booth grabbed him, not quite the way he intended. He was holding Zack around the waist - more like a come-on than a restraint. Zack backed into him. Zack's hair was tickling his chin. So not exactly a choke hold. Zack went limp against him, the back of his head on Booth's shoulder. Zack was a formidable opponent. His head went to the side and Booth kissed his neck. One of Zack's hands sneaked in between Booth's legs, encouraging the development of Booth's erection.

Booth noticed the open door and sobered. He pushed Zack away and held him off by the back of his neck. They were face to face now. With the other hand he had to hold on to Zack's wrist so he would stop trying to feel him up.

"You're leaving." Booth made sure to look and sound firm and uncompromising. It wasn't like Zack could hear the voice in Booth's head that told him to push Zack against the wall, pin him there, let the neighbors hear him scream.

Zack felt taught as a bow in Booth's hands. The look in Zack's eyes was the predatory look of something small but deadly. A mongoose. A chinchilla? A chihuahua? This was exactly why Zack was dangerous. Laughing at Zack one minute, slamming into him the next. Booth's hand on the back of Zack's neck was like a vise. Zack couldn't move an inch. Zack's mouth opened. Booth kicked the door shut and kissed him. He used his hold on Zack to make the kiss deep, controlled, to subdue him with it. With Zack immobilized and overwhelmed, completely in his grip, Booth was completely helpless.

-

This is how people get to hate themselves, Booth thought. He was stretched out on the floor two feet from his front door. Zack was lying across him. Sometimes he would lazily kiss Booth's chest. Every time Zack shifted, Booth felt a little more stirring in his groin. In a few minutes he would be ready for another go. He wondered if that was enough time to boot Zack out the door. Zack's hand brushed over the skin of Booth's thigh. The back of Zack's head was all Booth could see. Zack turned over, those unnerving eyes looking into Booth's. Booth pushed back Zack's hair and ran his hand down his back. Zack's eyes closed, his lips made contact with Booth's skin. He still had a few more minutes, but Booth knew he wouldn't make it.

-

Booth was still on the hallway floor, exhausted, in no danger of a repeat performance. As Zack stood over him, Booth saw that he had his clothes back on. Booth didn't.

"I need a ride home now," Zack said.

"You are kidding me. Take a bus."

"It's raining."

"You won't melt."

Zack stepped over him as he was leaving. Booth felt his hand twitch to grab at his leg. Good thing he was too tired.

-

The squints were setting up a demonstration in the lab. They loved their crazy, little experiments. Booth stood around while they got their stuff ready. An arm bone was wrapped in thin slice of raw meat and a sleeve from a designer outfit.

"Isn't this why you have the computers that cost more than a small, tropical island?" Booth asked.

"We did that already," Zack said as he fussed with something.

"There's nothing like the real thing, baby," Hodgins said as he slapped the slab of raw meat.

"You're ghouls," Angela pronounced.

Zack was having trouble closing the clasp on the replica of the bracelet the victim had been wearing.

"Let me. I've had loads of practice," Hodgins said and tried to shove Zack out of the way.

"It's not a bra hook," Zack shot back.

"Good, because I only know how to unhook those."

A disgusted Angela took over and put the bracelet on the bone with her eyes nearly closed.

While he deftly avoided looking at Zack, Booth found himself catching more than one sideways look from Hodgins.

"What's your problem?"

Hodgins didn't look intimidated by Booth's gruff, manly ways.

"Tell you later," Jack promised.

Booth tried to ignore the 'I know all about it' tone. Hodgins had the same tone about every conspiracy.

The squints were back to discussing things, and squints talking science made Booth space out. He could just get on with things. No need to make a federal case out of it. Booth grinned. Then stopped at another knowing look from Hodgins. Booth's reaction - almost panic - told him he was doing something he had to stop. Or hide really well. This thing wouldn't make much difference in Zack's career or in his life. It could ruin Booth.

It should be easy. Tell Zack and then stick to it. Why the Hell wasn't it easy? Zack always showing up eager and ready. And Booth always thinking one more time, one more time, just one more time.

Brooding about the mess he was in, Booth almost missed what was going on in front of him. The demonstration was on.

"Could a girl who weighs 90 pounds soaking wet have cracked that bone using just this cell phone and leaving an impression of that bracelet in the bone?" Angela asked holding up the phone.

"Let's see. Zack, you have a go," Hodgins told him.

"I weigh more than 90 pounds soaking wet."

They went on arguing like that. Booth just wished they would stop talking about Zack soaking wet before he had to excuse himself. As Booth shifted uncomfortably, Hodgins gave him another patented conspiracy freak look.

-

After Booth overheard Bones sending Zack on an errand, all he had to do was wait for him in the parking garage. Booth leaned against his car until he saw Zack. He didn't wait for Zack to approach as he undoubtedly would have. He was taking control. Booth went over to him and took him by the arm. He pushed Zack into the front seat of his SUV and took a seat behind the wheel.

Zack clutched a sealed container to his chest. Booth vowed not to ask what was in there.

"Are you giving me a ride?" Zack asked turning to Booth. Booth made a point of not looking at him.

"No. And no."

"Are we going to have sex in the car?" Zack asked, eager.

"That's what the other 'no' was for. And stop thinking about wrapping you legs around my neck."

"Are we having sex on the car?" Zack asked, even more eager.

"No."

"You can bend me over the hood and..."

"Shut up."

Booth squeezed the steering wheel and suppressed a shiver. A public place and some vehicular intercourse - God that was tempting and exactly what was wrong with this. He was considering security camera angles. He was enthusiastically contemplating something he could get arrested for, and his dick was inches away from talking him into it. Put an end to it. Pull this thing out by the roots. Booth turned to Zack.

"Let me try to put this on a level you'll understand - I do not want it in the car. I do not want it on the hood. I do not want you. Period. Do you get it?"

"Are you referencing Doctor Seuss' Green Eggs And Ham? Because the juxtaposition of the sexual with rhymes from my childhood is making me queasy."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to ruin your childhood. When is that ending by the way?"

"I am an adult," Zack claimed in the stiffest, least convincing way possible, in the process making himself sound underaged and forbidden. Booth suppressed a groan.

"Act like one. Do as you are told. Go away."

"If I don't, will you handcuff me?" Zack offered his wrists, once again trying to derail Booth.

"Is that on your list?" Booth asked looking him in the eye the way he might a suspect he knew was guilty.

"Yes."

"Burn the list."

Zack was just sitting there. Booth stared straight ahead while Zack stared at him. Straight ahead of Booth was a wall. Booth put the key in the ignition, turned, and put his arm around the back of the passenger seat.

"Get out of the car."

-

-

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

Driving Ch. 6

-

Booth was heading home at the end of a long day, feet dragging, jacket already off and slung over one shoulder. He saw a figure lurking by his front door and wanted to slam his forehead into a wall. But as he got closer, the curly hair and the beard were actually a relief for about a second. It wasn't that squint, but it was still a squint. Booth was back to wanting to slam his head into a wall.

Seeing Booth, Hodgins got a let's talk turkey stance, arms crossed, chin up. Here we go.

"What the Hell, Hodgins?"

"You don't want me here, I don't want to be here," Jack started off. "But I care about Zack."

It might have been Booth's imagination that Jack wore a look that said don't touch him he's mine. It was too late for that warning. Booth wore a look made of stone, he was Mount Rushmore, the Easter Island guys, and the Lincoln Memorial rolled into one.

"Good. Great. Mazal Tov," Booth told Hodgins, ready to muscle past him.

"And what you are doing with him..."

Booth paused and decided but he didn't need to deny anything. There was nothing to deny. It was over. Never happened. No need to pronounce the thing dead. The stone face was still in place.

"I want in," Jack said.

"In? What?!" The stone face crumbled.

"I want in on this thing with you and Zack."

"It's not a poker game. He's your friend! You are supposed to put a stop to this insanity not turn it into an orgy."

"Three people is not an orgy, it's a threesome or a menage a trois if you want to be French about it," Hodgins lectured. "As for putting a stop to this, I think you have me confused with your high school principal or a stern nun." As soon as he finished saying that, Jack spotted a funny look in Booth's eye. "Are you picturing me in a nun's habit?"

"Yeah, wait, OK I'm done. And I'm done with Zack. He's all yours."

"Are you? I was kidding about dealing me in. Just wanted to see your face and get around the denial phase of the proceedings. Didn't expect that you want out." Hodgins wore an expression that was one part puzzled and two parts amused.

Booth hung his head - after so many interrogations to be tricked so easily and by a squint. Booth sighed.

"Can we skip the part where I threaten you if you ever repeat any of this?"

"Aha," Hodgins agreed easily. "In his own way, Zack is irresistible. If I was gay, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him. He lives above my garage. Do you know what I'd have to do not to jump him?"

"Don't even think about telling me. And I'm not gay."

"Zack's bespoiled virtue says otherwise."

"Bespoiled?"

"And by you, of all people."

"What's wrong with me?"

"I have neither the time nor the qualifications to answer that question. But since you are done messing with my best friend, we are square."

"Yeah thanks for letting me off easy," Booth said with sarcasm that Jack chose to ignore as he walked away.

-

"Close your eyes, Zack."

"I prefer to keep them open that way I won't miss anything."

"Well, it's unnerving."

"That's just my off putting manner. I've been told..."

"Stop talking and start moving," Booth ordered him.

Booth was taking it easy after the frenzied first go when he did all the work. He wanted to see what made Zack crazy, actually he found that Zack made him crazy. Zack was sitting on top of him, staring. Booth lifted him. Zack closed his eyes. They were just touching.

"This position will be difficult to maintain once..."

"Don't be lazy, Zack. Earn your keep."

Zack started moving.

-

Zack felt pressure. He was in control. Booth was lying back. Zack's body told him what to do. He pushed down. His face contorted with the intrusion. His head was back. His vision darkened at the edges. He heard noises forming in his throat, flying out of his open mouth. This was the thing he had seen in Booth - in control and not in control. His body drove him to do things. He pushed himself down hard, gritted his teeth. Booth grunted, surprised.

"Take it slow."

Zack shook his head. He couldn't talk. He was afraid to breathe or move. He waited for his body to tell him what to do next. Whatever it was, he would do it.

-

"Get up!"

Zack didn't. In fact he was glad that he had been lying on his stomach. There was even appropriate and innocently scientific reading material in front of him.

"As my landlord..." Zack started to object to the invasion. He had paid close attention, memorized every detail, every sensation for just this contingency. He didn't like the interruption. Hodgins didn't care.

"OK, you and me. I am going to show you what a wild night on the town with Jack Hodgins is all about. Why women love me, and men fear me, and sometimes love me. Bring your health insurance card and your passport. Because we could end the night in Caracas, we could end the night in the ER, or we could end the night in the Caracas ER."

"A medical emergency in a foreign country sounds tempting," Zack said in a monotone that was more downbeat than usual.

"Where's the love?"

"Booth," was Zack's one word answer. It was all he had to say after the earful he gave Hodgins on the subject days ago.

"Couldn't you at least let me down gently?"

"You don't need me. You have all those women."

"Monogamy is not a choice is a fallback position for those who can't do any better," Hodgins recited. "Learn from me, my young friend. I am ready to teach you."

"I want Booth to teach me."

"My ego can't take this. Snap out of it. You let Booth mess with your head, he's not certified."

"I am just suffering withdrawal symptoms. Living off steamy memories," Zack mumbled as he rested his chin on his hands.

"Lift your chin, Zack, and speak clearly."

"Like that time he had me in the dirt," Zack continued, doing as he was told without really paying attention.

"Dirt is right. Keep talking and be descriptive. "

After going on for a while Zack heard a click of a small recording device.

"You carry that with you?" Zack asked.

"You've met me before, right?"

-

Jack caught Booth unloading groceries from his car.

"Why couldn't you just keep ignoring Zack? You were doing so well. Hell, I admired you for it," Jack asked as he leaned against the side of the SUV while Booth picked up some bags from the back.

"Why are we talking about Zack?" Booth put a warning growl into his voice.

"Zack's moping."

"And how can you tell?" Booth was walking away with groceries. Jack followed him.

"He holds his head at a 39 degree angle instead of his usual 42 degree angle," Jack quipped.

"Try telling him jokes."

"The kind of jokes Zack finds funny make my ears bleed."

"So you squints are not all cut from the same cloth," Booth concluded as he unlocked his front door and pushed it open with his knee.

"If we were, you would have had me up against the air compressor instead of Zack."

Booth stopped, letting his front door swing open. He felt a deer in the headlights effects as Jack's weird eyes bored into him. The silence stretched out. Booth's head filled with Zack saying 'this feels so good', his words broken up by the slamming of Booth's body against his and the thumping of the machine.

"He told you about that," Booth finally said.

"He wouldn't stop talking about the vibrations." Jack grimaced. The memory didn't put a dreamy look in his eye.

"Mmm... I mean, mmm," Boot said in a more thoughtful tone. He made his way into the kitchen and set his grocery bags on the counter. Jack was right behind him.

"I've been trying to cheer him up, but he isn't up for it."

"You can't kiss it and make it better? Aww. I guess you aren't the man for the job."

"Ooh, getting territorial over our Zack," Jack emphasized 'our'.

"I'm not..."

"Maybe I can cheer you up."

"Hodgins!"

"Yes."

"I just cut the line on one squint."

"Zack is a small fish. You were right to cut him loose. I think I can teach you a thing or two."

"Really? Like what?" Booth challenged hoping to put Jack on the spot.

"I'll make you a list."

"Oh God, lists. Are all of you squints..."

"Just kidding, man. Take it easy. Zack really did a number on you."

"You know about the list too."

"I know everything. Zack isn't good with boundaries, and he trusts me completely. I have so much blackmail material on you..."

"And you'll use it to get what?"

"A wild night on the town. The kind of night where anything could happen, but you'll only remember half of it, if you're lucky."

"Socializing with squints? Squint socializing? Does that sound appealing?"

"That's where the blackmail comes in, my friend"

"Well, my friend, unless you have pictures...You don't have pictures?"

"No. Audio only. Zack going on and on. The descriptions are a little clinical but that memory of his. Man, the places I wish I could plant him." Jack considered his words. "That wasn't supposed to be dirty."

"It wasn't. It was weird."

"I meant like a bug, you know, plant him like a bug."

"Aha."

"Yeah. So you up at ten, old man? Because that's when I'm picking you up. Wear something...you know. " Jack made a curvy shape in the air and didn't wait for an answer.

-

"Zack, are you listening," Jack asked as Zack wasn't even pretending to listen

"No. I'm picturing Booth's naked body. Except for socks. Mmm. Now the socks are gone."

"A little louder. You know this isn't a gay bar," Booth hissed in Hodgins' ear. Hodgins rubbed at his earlobe. He was sitting at the bar between Booth and Zack. Zack was blowing bubbles into his beer. Booth was knocking his back manfully.

"Ooh, can we go to a gay bar?" Zack asked, beer foam on his lip.

"No," Booth and Hodgins said in unison. Jack, realizing he was sounding as uptight as Booth, changed his tune.

"Yes, yes we can."

Zack positively beamed. "Am I dressed OK?" he asked turning to Jack for inspection.

"No. Never. But never mind that."

"Wait. I changed my mind." Zack turned back to the bar and his beer.

"What? Why?" Jack asked not exactly disappointed.

"The sexy dancing men would climb Booth like he was a big sexy mountain and I would loose him forever."

"OK, this is supposed to be a guys night out. Guys just being guys. That's guys not gays," Jack reminded him.

Zack had his head on the bar and looked around Hodgins and up at Booth with his big sad eyes.

"You look funny," he told Booth.

"You look plastered. What did he have, two beers?" Booth asked Hodgins.

"Four. I had four," Zack corrected him, showing him four fingers as proof.

"He isn't drunk, he can still count," Hodgins said.

"Yeah, to four. On his fingers. Try some real math on him."

Zack started reciting some math and Booth clutched his head.

"No, no. Stop that. I'm saving my headache for tomorrow."

A few drinks later, Booth got up and pulled Jack aside.

"OK, Hodgins." Booth had his arm on Jack's shoulder, uncharacteristically. They both looked at it like it was a dead fish someone had placed there. The hand didn't move on its own, and Booth didn't seem to realize that it was up to him to move it.

"OK," he tried again this time remembering what came after 'ok'. "OK, since I'm now drunk... You would say I'm drunk, right?"

"I will certify that you are drunk. I will testify in court that you are drunk. And I swiped your keys half an hour ago."

"Oh good. So I'm certifiably drunk. And Zack is drunk, right? He's still drunk?" They both craned their necks to see drunk Zack still sitting at the bar.

"He's drunk. He's talking to bar peanuts about their many uses and unique properties."

"That's nice. So is it OK for a drunk FBI agent to have wild men's room sex with a drunk squint, namely Zack."

"Am I your moral compass? Wow, you are drunk. OK, no to everything especially the men's room sex. That's is a straight men's room in a straight bar intended strictly for straight sex, and some other activities."

"That's what makes it so exciting."

"Sorry, I can't let Zack get arrested like a common US Senator."

"I'll flash my badge and clear the place." Booth beamed with his bright idea and reached for his badge. Hodgins pulled his hand down.

"You are just dying to end up in the tabloids."

"You're just jealous. You want to take him into a stall and boink him yourself." Booth made a motion with his hips. Jack look around to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

"No, I am straight. And not like you, really straight." Jack enunciated to compensate for bar noise and for Booth's beer impaired hearing.

"You said..."

"I was kidding. Remember?"

"You are holding out for a threesome," Booth accused.

"I am taking you guys home."

"We've done it there already. I know, you can stand guard outside the men's room."

Jack saw Booth leering at Zack over his shoulder and waved his hand in front of Booth's face making him dizzy.

"I am not here to facilitate your gayness. I was trying to normalize things between you guys. Booth!" he said, pulling on Booth's arm. Booth's attention had strayed back to Zack.

"Aww, he's gonna fall," Booth said as Zack slid off the barstool then got back on. "Look at his little tush. I just wanna..." Booth made squeezing motions and headed for Zack. Hodgins steered him to his own barstool and away from Zack's tush.

"No one can have him, he's mine!" Booth announced to the bar.

"Shh. OK, we're going. You, Addy, up on your feet," Hodgins ordered.

-

Jack sat between them in the back of the cab, keeping Booth's hands out of Zack's lap. Zack was too far gone to be much trouble. He breathed on the cab window and seemed delighted when it fogged up. The streets were wet, the streetlights warped in the puddles. The raindrops on the windshield splintering the view.

"I want to go home with Booth," Zack said slowly and clearly when they stopped to let Booth out.

"Are you...?" Jack started to ask, but Zack was already climbing over him after Booth. "You have your own door, you know."

Booth was holding Zack up on the sidewalk, or maybe using him for support. It looked so wrong. Jack closed the car door on the view and told the driver his address.

-

Booth found that it took a few tries to get his front door unlocked. The keyhole was smaller, the key bigger, and Zack was hanging on him like Booth was a slippery, stripper pole.

"I don't want to drink and drive. I am a good citizen," Zack mumbled into Booth's neck. Booth felt his neck get licked.

"Yes you are," Booth said as he dragged him inside and dropped him on his bed.

-

"Get up."

It was Booth's voice making its way through Zack's hangover. It was coming from the bathroom door.

"Oh, no. Did we have sex and I missed it?" Zack asked with alarm.

"No. I'm pretty sure."

"But I'm undressed."

"Only half undressed."

Zack had his shirt off but his pants were still on - an almost sure sign that there was no drunken sex.

"No, you are right. I'm not sore in the right places," Zack finally agreed. He sounded disappointed. "Did we get tattoos?" he asked as he twisted to see his own back.

"What?" Booth asked over running water.

"I thought there might be tattoos."

"No tattoos," Booth said remembering when an old girlfriend had ended up with Celia written on her ass because of her pot induced inability to spell Seeley.

"I think I have a hangover."

"Congratulations." Booth came out of the bathroom, wiping his face.

"People like you have remedies for hangovers," Zack said still sitting in the middle of Booth's bed like he was expecting to get served raw eggs in tomato juice. "Is sex good for a hangover?" Or maybe he was expecting something else. He was going to be disappointed either way.

"Nothing is good for a hangover except to get drunk again."

The cure is the same thing that made you sick, Booth thought. Zack was talking about ethanol or something, and Booth just looked at him sitting cross-legged on the messy sheets. He wanted that cure. He wanted to have Zack until he was sick of him, until he just didn't want him any more. That was it, plow right in, drive right through the worst of it till you get to the other side. Get so much Zack he'd never want Zack again.

Booth got on top of Zack, decided to call in sick. Then he remembered.

"Did you know it was the weekend?"

"Yes."

Booth looked through Zack, considered all that time stretching out in front of them. Hair of the dog weekend.

He unzipped Zack's pants. He pulled on them till they came off. He turned Zack over. He didn't get him too ready. He wanted to give Zack that sore feeling he'd been missing.

-

the end


End file.
